Without thinking, I reached into my pants pocket. My fingers closed around my Zippo. I pulled it out, flipped it open, thumbed the flint and thrust it up into his face. I heard and smelled the sizzle of scorched flesh, and a scream like a chimp with a firecracker up its ass tore through my eardrums.
I staggered to my feet, clawing the rope from my neck, wheezing, gasping and retching for air. I turned to look at the ringleader. He was rolling around in the sand, clutching at his face. I reached for my knife and flipped the blade open. I walked over to him, knelt down beside him and whispered in his ear.
“Time to die, sweetheart.”
I leant over and, with a quick thrust, inserted the blade vertically down past his left collar bone, severing his carotid artery and his aorta. When I removed the blade, he bled out in one and a half seconds. It was more compassion than he deserved.
Chapter Thirteen
I felt as if someone had buried a blunt axe in my back and had tried to cut my head off with a rusty piece of piano wire, but when you’re on a job, you haven’t got time to think like that. You shelve the pain and leave it for later. Though I would’ve sold my soul for a shot of bourbon.
I made it back to the motel in one piece, and that was what mattered. I figured it’d be the smart thing to do to take a couple hours shuteye, so I jumped in the shower to clean off, then lay down in front of the TV and passed out for a while.
The sun was still out when I woke up. I grabbed a small breakfast of some churros and a couple pieces of fruit from the motel reception and went back to the room to wrap up some of my more aggravating injuries. Once that was done, I grabbed a bag from my truck and threw in a pair of binoculars and some water and headed out to scout Jesse’s alleged compound.
I walked northeast through the town for a half hour, taking in the views of the gulf and the beautiful white lighthouse before arriving at a cove. On the far side of the cove was a large, almost mountainous pyramidic hill. Roughly a thousand feet high, it had vein-like ridges that dropped off into the gulf on its far side. I could see that if I continued around the cove, there was a decent chance I would be spotted by Jesse or one of his boys, as the road led right in front of where the waiter said the compound was.
I would have to swim. I walked down to the beach to my left and sat down on the sand. It was empty and quiet. I hadn’t seen a single person since I had left the motel. I looked across the water at the hill. I figured that if I was going to get a decent view of where Jesse was camped out, I would have to swim over to the eastern face of the rock, ascend to somewhere near the apex of the pyramid-like shape and climb back down to the eastern side where there appeared to be a kind of shelf. I unlaced my boots, opened my bag and stuffed them in. I removed my shirt, leaving myself in a vest top and my jeans. I folded the shirt up and placed it in the bag too, before I closed it back up and threw it onto my back.
I looked around once more to ensure nobody was about to watch a crazy woman wade into the ocean almost fully clothed with a pack on her back. They weren’t.
It took me just under fifteen minutes to cross the water. I wasn’t trying to kill myself by setting a world record, and I knew I had a climb ahead of me once I reached the other shore, so I took it pretty easy. I reached the rock face on the other side of the cove and heaved myself out of the water. I was totally out of sight of Jesse’s compound here, and so I took my time. The side of the hill fed directly into the sea, which allowed me to stand up and walk the last short distance. I took a seat and let the heat of the morning sun, which was rising directly in front of me, dry me off for a couple of minutes before I began my climb.
Underfoot, the terrain had changed from soft, slightly scorched sand to stone, rock and boulder. I turned and looked up. It was quite a ways to the top, but I wasn’t headed for the top. I needed to make my way from the east face around to the shaded, northern side of the hill, where I figured I would be able to gain an unobstructed view of Jesse’s hiding place.
The sun was creeping ever higher as I began my climb. It was hard work and the temperature was rising every minute. The rock face was steep, and it was hard to maintain my grip in certain places, where it was more gravelly. Especially with sweaty palms. I had been following the veins, runoffs which allowed me to mostly walk for stretches, but occasionally, they would disappear and I would be faced with sheer rock face. Certain parts of these areas had almost no hand or footholds, and I had to swing myself to the next safe spot. There were no roots, no branches to grab onto in this stark landscape. Just more boulders. I stopped for a couple of minutes to catch my breath and work out a few muscles. I found a small crevice in the rock face and sat, taking in my surroundings. I had noticed a bird overhead a few times during the climb and looked up to see if I could spot it again. After a minute or two, I caught a glimpse. A Mexican eagle, a Caracara, was circling. I tried not to take it as a bad omen. At least it wasn’t a vulture.
From then on, it was slightly easier going until I reached the shade of the escarpment on the eastern side. It took me just over half an hour all in, and though the terrain was more or less the same, I noticed there was more vegetation on this side of the hill. I slipped down the incredibly steep side to a little nook I had spotted from above, and made myself a kind of cushioned seat by ripping up and arranging some of the bushier plants around me. From there, I could observe the small complex of buildings the waiter had told me Jesse and his men were in.
Only, my binoculars showed me it was not a small complex. It was a fenced in, gated estate, nestled away on the inland side of the hill, yet still managing to maintain a view across the gulf. There were five small buildings that spanned the estate, about five hundred meters away from one, much larger building. I assumed that the larger building was where Jesse and his men were tucked away. It was enormous. Extremely modern and almost entirely made of glass, it had huge windows that looked out across the water. It dwarfed the buildings surrounding it and looked like it would have been more at home in Bel Air. It was luxury. The estate itself was peppered with trees that also flanked the perimeter fence on both sides.
I settled down in my spot and observed the comings and goings of Jesse’s men for a few hours, though not many of them left the complex. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything to see. Maybe they were all asleep, but I figured they were staying put in the main house because they were up to something. At around midday, I climbed back down the hill and went to the motel for some lunch and to take a shower. I needed to come up with a plan.
I would head back up the hill to my spot and do some more surveillance, as I wasn’t sure of the reasons why they were here or how long they were planning on staying. It was dangerous to leave the observation spot, as I could miss something crucial, so I needed to get back up there as soon as I could. But I needed supplies, first. I headed over to a small market a few blocks away from my motel and grabbed enough food for a couple of days, as well as a first aid kit. You never knew, and it was always better to be safe than sorry.
I took the food back to my truck and packed it into my Ortlieb day bag, then lifted up the flat bed at the back to gaze upon my portable arsenal. I wasn’t trying to get arrested if I ever got pulled over and a cop felt the need to search my truck, but I found that, when you’re me, the equipment is more necessary than not. I pulled on a shoulder holster and fitted a Glock 19. A simple, no-frills 9mm. I liked the Glock because it was more reliable than a Beretta and it was easier to hide. Knocks ’em down and holds more bullets. What more could you want?
I then chose an HK416—they’re just fun—attached a sling and swung it onto my back. I grabbed a few ammo clips as well as a belt and put them into the day bag with the food. I surveyed what else was back there. Burner phones can be useful for all sorts of things. Everything from making calls you don’t want to be traced to bugging and tracking people. That’s why I always keep at least half a dozen in a bag in my truck. I grabbed two and put them in the day bag as well. I pulled my jacket on over the top of the
rifle and swung the bag onto my back. It looked a little weird with the muzzle poking out of the back of my collar, and it wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but it would have to do. I closed up the truck and headed back to the hill. Back to my observation point.
* * *
At around five o’clock that evening, the gates to Jesse’s mansion estate opened for the first time in a few hours. This time, it was not a group of his boys coming out, but a group of three cars I hadn’t seen before, entering the complex. I watched as they drove up the winding, dusty pathway that led to the main house. They pulled up near the front entrance and two men exited the first vehicle, a white Mercedes S Class. One was older and well dressed in a dark gray suit. The other was about a decade younger and wearing shorts and a shirt. They headed up the stairs and into the house as the other two cars pulled up and parked. A man appeared at the entrance to greet them and guided them inside.
The other two cars pulled up next to the Mercedes. A black Audi RS7 and another, dark blue Mercedes. Two men and two women exited the Audi, followed by two more women and another man from the second Mercedes. I watched as they entered the house as well.
The door closed and soon, the sun began to set. The lights came on one by one in the house. Someone appeared too and began to open up the patio around the swimming pool at the back. They then switched on the bulbs that hung from the pergola around a firepit seating area and lit up a propane barbeque. Soon, the guests began to filter out, laughing and drinking.
I allowed one more hour for it to get truly dark. Also for the guests to get a bit more alcohol into their systems. Then it was time to make my way down the hillside. This time, I would take a different route down the north side of the hill. Beneath my little nook in the rock face, the terrain was incredibly steep and covered in loose, sharp gravel. I pulled out the first aid kit and wrapped the palms of my hands tightly with some bandage. I then moved myself to the edge of the nook and looked down. I was very glad in that moment that I didn’t suffer with vertigo. It wasn’t quite a sheer drop, but it was pretty darn close. I edged myself out of the nook, and, knowing that gravity was about to do a lot of the work for me, I skirted into the runoff that ran by it. Putting one foot straight out, and using the other as a kind of brake, I placed my hands on either side of my hips and allowed myself to slide down the side of the hill. The lack of light made it an interesting exercise, but it meant that nobody could see me coming, either. It was all right during the day when I could pass for some tourist hiker, but it’s a little harder to explain mountainous walking when the sun’s going down.
To call it a bumpy ride would be an understatement. Even with the bandages, my hands were getting torn to shreds by the gravel. I had to perform some tricky maneuvers to avoid boulders that came out of nowhere from the darkness and by the time I finally reached the bottom, I was pretty battered and bruised.
Even so, I made it in almost no time. I brushed myself off, removed the bandages from my hands and cricked my neck. I was ready.
A three minute sprint got me to some bushes near the perimeter fence. The tree line at the northern edge of the compound would give me a decent amount of cover, and I recalled that I had judged the fence to be about seven feet high and chain link from my spot on the hill. When I arrived, my observations were confirmed, which meant I had no problem scaling it.
With a little run up and a jump, I hauled myself over and dropped down on the other side. I stayed in a crouched position and remained motionless, listening for a couple of minutes. There were no dogs. That was a relief. I figured I was about three hundred yards from the pool and the majority of the guests. The house was L shaped, with the shorter, bottom half of the L on my left, the pool and patio sitting in the angle. The walls looking into the patio and the pool were plate glass sliding doors.
I needed to head further around the perimeter to the west, through the trees, to make sure I was not seen. I took my time so as to be quiet and moved around the outside of the grounds, keeping my back to the fence and my ear in their direction. I could still hear laughter from the poolside and it smelled like the food was getting close to ready.
Once I was around one hundred yards from the house, I could see that the large glass doors that allowed the living room to spill into the patio and the rest of the garden were open. This exposed the entire back of the house. I crept up silently to the right side, farthest from the party, and snuck in through the open plan living room and into the kitchen area.
Next on my agenda was finding where the staff kept the tanks of propane being used for the barbeque. I had watched one of them bring one out from the kitchen to the poolside an hour or two before I had left my spot on the hill.
I ran my eyes across the kitchen for something that looked like a storage area and spotted a large cupboard in the far corner by the start of the sliding doors. I checked over my shoulder to make sure I couldn’t be seen and crept over. Hallelujah.
There were two medium sized tanks in the bottom right corner. I pulled one out, heaved it on my shoulder and exited the kitchen, heading for the stairs.
I found the office just off the second floor landing and placed the tank by a large, floor-to-ceiling window in the middle of the back wall that looked down on the patio. All the lights were off. I figured I would have a look around.
I walked over to the desk, which sat in front of a tall bookcase that spanned the whole of one wall. I sat down and noticed three drawers on the left hand side. I tried the top one. A set of keys, some papers in a language I couldn’t understand and a half empty bottle of Jack. I tried the second. Hello. Five large stacks of hundred dollar bills. I stuffed them into my pocket. I tried the third. It was locked.
I pulled open the first drawer again, taking out the keys. I tried each of them to see if they fit. They didn’t. I looked around on the desk and the bookshelf behind me, but I couldn’t see one. I turned my hands palm up and felt underneath the desk, but there was nothing. Jesus, if there was that much money in an unlocked drawer, what the hell was in the locked one?
I pulled my knife off my belt and opened it, then stuck the blade into the top of the first drawer. I smacked the handle with my open hand and it crunched. I tried the drawer again and it opened. Inside were more files, papers, and a book with a worn cover. I opened the book. It was filled with scribbles of weird drawings and symbols, and more of this language I didn’t know. I leafed through the other files and papers and they were the same. I shrugged and took them all. If they were in a locked drawer, they were probably important.
I took a burner phone out of my pack and put it on the desk, got up and walked back over to the propane tank. I twisted open the valve until I heard a faint hsss and then left the office, closing the door on the way out. I headed back downstairs and out the side of the house the way I came.
Chapter Fourteen
I worked my way silently through the trees and back to the perimeter fence. I stopped at around the same place I had entered. Once I was satisfied nobody could see me, I lit a cigarette and took a long drag. I leaned back against the fence and pulled my cell out of my pocket to dial the number Archie had given me. I looked up at the house and spotted the office I had just been in. The phone rang a couple times before I heard a crackle and I took another drag of the cigarette.
“Hello?”
“Jesse, hey, how’s it going?” I asked, in my most nonchalant voice.
“Who the fuck is this? How did you get this number?”
I smiled to myself as I watched his tiny, angry figure by the pool as it gestured wildly. “This is your friend Ana, from the bar fight? At Rico’s? Buddy, we need to talk.”
“You? What the fuck do you want? How the hell did you get this number?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m in Mexico, up in your office, looking down at you. You look stupid.” I grinned as I watched him lose his shit and heard him bellow at his men.
“Get the fuck up there! She’s in the office, get up there NOW!”
I hung up and watched five guys leap from their seats around the fire pit and grab their weapons. They ran up the stairs one after another and I began a slow jog back towards the house as I watched. I was waiting to see a crack of light appear in the office window. Any second now.
The door burst open and the light from the landing lit up their silhouettes as two, three, four of them ran into the room. I dialed the burner as the fifth guy entered. I tucked in behind a tree to watch the show.
My eyes stayed trained on the office as a ball of orange, yellow, white and red filled the room, then became fragmented as the glass in the windows shattered. I was hit by a shockwave as a thunderous noise filled the night air, along with a rush of heat. The fireball rose out of the top of the house and I watched the incandescent glass fly through the air and land all over the grounds.
I swung out from behind the tree and continued my jog towards the house. I pulled my day bag and jacket off as I ran and threw them down so I could pull the HK416 around to my front. As I broke the tree line, about ten of Jesse’s guys noticed me and shouted at each other. They began running at me, but they were disorganized and pretty stunned from the explosion. I sprayed them with bullets and they fell to the ground, crying out. I couldn’t see Jesse anywhere, and so I continued at a jog towards the house. I arrived at the patio and six more of Jesse’s boys came at me from behind the building. One of them ran straight at me from my left and got in close, swinging his arm, trying to connect with my face. I threw my elbow up and connected with his jaw instead. I grabbed my 9mm and put one through his head, and the guy next to him. One of the others slipped as he ran at me and I sprayed him and his buddies with the HK416. I was fairly certain I’d now met all of the guys who had turned up in the cars earlier that day, but I didn’t know how many had already been in the house and therefore were taken out by the explosion, how many had been in the initial convoy. Or how many might have left while I was away from my observation point. I proceeded with caution.
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